


Let The Dance Begin

by avengercat



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, First Dance, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mentions of Peggy - Freeform, with a hint of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 09:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3351527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengercat/pseuds/avengercat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony teaches Steve the Foxtrot.<br/>"It’ll be fun Cap, some schmoozing and then drinking and a little dancing. Hardly the worst task Fury’s asked of us."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let The Dance Begin

“It’ll be fun Cap, some schmoozing and then drinking and a little dancing. Hardly the worst task Fury’s asked of us,” Tony consoles, noticing mid-word how Steve was looking more and more like a flight risk. “What’s wrong? You’ve schmoozed, I’ve seen the reels. Is it the drinking?”

“Can’t get drunk,” Steve shakes his head.

“Dancing? Dancing then,” Tony plows ahead with it, sensing he’s on track. “Nothing to worry about, some of it’s just like walking, one foot then the other. Here, let me show you.”

“Tony it’s okay really, I don’t think–“

“Too late, music’s queued, aaaaand playing. Look, just put your hand here and we’re set,” he grins, setting Steve’s hand on his waist. It’s not really the correct position for this dance as that would be resting lightly somewhere higher on Tony’s back. But it’s a big hand, very capable and Tony likes how it feels there, holding him, so the ‘mistake’ can be his secret. A selfish little pleasure that’d hurt no one. “You can never call me a bad friend. See? I’m even doing the lady’s side of things.”

“You’re not a bad friend, why would I– ” Steve protests flustered.

“Left leg first, let’s go,” Tony steps back and Steve follows without thinking. “Walk, walk, step step.”

“-ever do that? Also, you’re hardly a lady.” 

“Walk, walk, step step. Slow, slow, quick quick. Slow, slow, quick quick,” Tony instructs, lightly putting pressure at Steve’s shoulder to indicate the slight changes in direction. “Slow, slow, quick quick. Slow, slow, quick quick. There you go, you’re getting the hang of it. Now, we’re approaching a corner so we have to turn. Ahh, wait!”

“Sorry!” They stumble a little, just missing stepping on each other’s feet. Steve flushes. Tony just looks at him and can’t help his smile, happy in a way he doesn’t fully understand but is ready to roll with. He’ll admit to himself that it’s related to his crush, but that’s as far as he’s going.

“Don’t worry. It’s just about the same thing. Like this,” he demonstrates alone before offering himself back up. Though hesitant, Steve does as expected of him and puts his hands back in position.

“Alright, 5, 6, 7, 8.” He watches Steve’s face as they reposition themselves to dance the short end of the room. “Good, now we’re back to slow, slow, quick quick.”

“Slow, slow, quick quick,” Steve starts to murmur along with him. His brow is furrowed slightly in concentration. It makes him look even more noble than usual. And that thought tips the scales. It’s confirmation that Tony is going, going, gone over him. Shit.

As they approach the next corner, Tony notices the way Steve bites his plush lower lip. Steve’s eyes are glued to their feet. Tony purposefully telegraphs his movements so Steve can learn as they go. It throws them offbeat for a few steps before they falter back into time. 

The odd feeling of dancing off rhythm is worth it by the next corner, Steve stepping shyly in the right directions, glancing up to see Tony’s approval. The smile Tony gets as they dance back to where they started feels like stepping out into the sun. As they dance around the room for the second time, Tony coaxes Steve to keep his head up. 

They’re halfway through their third round when the song comes to an end, but by then, Steve’s movements are confident and he’s starting to try leading. In the silence that follows there’s a moment where they continue to look at each other, Tony tries to read what Steve’s feeling. He’s not good at the mindreading thing.

He realizes he’s holding the gaze too long. His feelings are probably showing and that’s not an option. Even if Tony wants him, Steve Rogers, all-American ideal, isn’t gay. Couldn’t be. So why ruin a good friendship? It’s the closest he’s going to get after all. He starts to draw back. 

“So that’s it then?” Steve asks. He doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo that Tony’s trying to escape his personal space. He’s looking at Tony like he expects something more. Tony curses himself for a flash moment at the thought that he might have disappointed Steve.

“That’s it. That’s a dance. The Foxtrot actually. If anyone asks.” Was he supposed to apologize? When he was in the wrong he tended to send baskets, give raises, do something with tangible results. This wasn’t the time for that though. He’s acutely aware of Steve’s hand, so warm on his waist. It isn’t releasing him. Nervous, He starts to ramble. “Did they dance the Foxtrot back in your – the past? I mean, I’m not a music history buff but I think it sounds old enough that–“

“I was kinda hoping there was more to it,” Steve interrupts. That’s the kind of buddies they are. So close that Steve will ignore Tony’s ramblings and Tony will stop when he speaks. Steve still looks like he’s looking for something.

“Sorry to disappoint? What about it was disappointing exactly? I mean, you picked it up pretty quickly, but that’s not a surprise. I’ve seen you pick up new fight moves mid-battle. Was it too easy? There are harder dances. I just thought, nervous, beginner, simple start –“

“It’s not that,” Steve shakes his head and smiles his ‘oh-Tony’ smile. He doesn’t look searching anymore. “Did you know that was my first dance?”

“Since the ‘40s? I kind of figured, given the big eyes and–“

“No, ever.”

Tony studies his face. “Wait seriously? You’re not pulling my leg here. Ever?”

“Ever.”

“I’m…sorry?” He’s not sorry. Not sorry at all though. In fact, his twisted little heart-mind was crowing with triumph that he’d gotten to be Steve’s first something. He was a terrible friend. The worst friend.

“Don’t be. Seems I was just waiting for the right partner. Peggy said that before.” 

Steve seems amused now. And if Tony knows that face, considering something too. Well, it was a relief that Steve didn’t seem upset by Tony’s stealing of his first dance. Actually, come to think of it, that was his assess-battlefield-before-rushing-in-and-giving-Tony-heart-failure face. Was it just him or– “Why are you getting so close?”

“I was thinking, if you don’t have any objections, I would like you to be my first, since the ‘40s, kiss.”

Tony doesn’t have any objections. Actually, he sort of doesn’t have any thoughts because his brain is overtaken by a sort of white noise buzzing and he feels sort of paralyzed and – is he choking? He might be choking. 

“Sorry I must have misread the – I hope this doesn’t change things between us.” 

Steve’s voice is making sounds that aren’t words to his ears. But, it’s confirmed. He’s definitely choking because Steve’s face is going the opposite direction he wants it to go and hey no, come back. “Wait–“ He croaks.

Steve pauses and his eyes are so goddamn blue and hopeful Tony thinks he could dive in and drown in them. And he’d be happy about it. Of all the stupid thoughts.

“I have no – I have the _opposite_ of objections but are you really sure – mmmf!” 

Oh. Okay. Steve was definitely sure. And it is almost definitely his first kiss in a while because he wasn’t kissing with experience as much as enthusiasm. That was okay though. So very okay. More than okay. Better than okay. He should be using superlatives. This situation deserved superlatives. If any would come to mind. Could you actually kill brain cells with a kiss? Did that even make sense? Whatever. Dead brain cells for kisses. Worth it. He was being kissed with 6 ft 2 of smoking hot blond. Everything was forgivable.

“Could you please stop thinking?” Steve asks against his lips. 

Right. He could grant that request. Sort of. “Wouldn’t that mean I was dead?”

“Tony,” Steve says his name in that tone, drawing back.

“Guh! No, back. Come. Sorry.” His hand had crept back up to rest on Steve’s shoulder at some point and he uses as an anchor to reclaim Steve’s mouth. Better. This time, he kisses Steve as an active participant and manages to ignore dwelling on the thought that he’s turning into a 14 year old girl with weak knees because Steve hand has become an arm around his waist, holding him close and it’s-

“Amazing. Fantastic. Stupendous. Terrific,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Don’t worry. Just refound some adjectives. More kisses now. Please.” And science bless Steve Rogers because he doesn’t make fun of him or ask him more questions, but obliges immediately. 

Tony loses track of time, lost exploring Steve’s wonderful, magical mouth. He tastes like apples and cinnamon and grass and something undefinable which Tony labels as ‘Steve’ but might be ambrosia. If he opened his eyes and saw that the room had turned dusty around them, he wouldn’t be surprised. He wouldn’t even care, besides wondering how their bodies could have self-sustained for so long. Super-soldier serum transmitted via saliva? Had that ever been tested? After all, there was research on saliva containing information on a person’s immune system and attraction based on opposites. Also, had they ever tested it with homosexual couples? Would be hypothesized reasoning hold true without the reproductive potential? 

“You’re thinking again,” Steve sighs a little, but he’s smiling. Tony smiles back, a little dazed. It’s not a dopey smile though. Nope. Tony Stark doesn’t do dopey. He’s not a dwarf with challenges. “Date me.”

The words jerk him out of his self-assurances that he is not a dwarf despite certain persons disparaging comments about his height. Intelligently, he replies. “Huh?”

“Date me?” Steve’s asks. If Tony hadn’t made such a study of his expressions for so long, if he weren’t so close, he’d miss the slight faltering in the smile. Steve is _nervous_ about asking him. As if he thought Tony might say no. That either made Steve the bravest, or stupidest person in the world. Possibly both. Tony will always say yes. It’s Steve. 

“Yes,” he agrees automatically before his thoughts have come to a halt. The word feels right though. He nods his head and repeats. “Yes. Yes yes yes.”

Steve beams and kisses him again. Once for every yes he thinks. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes yes. Yes,” he tests. Positive results. “Yes.”

He loves scientific experiments.

“I can only hope you’ll like me as much one day,” Steve snickers.

“Oh, I said that aloud?”

“Yes.” So dry.

Tony kisses him. A ‘forgive me’ as much as a ‘see isn’t this the best reward?’ one.

“Yes, yes.”

Kiss, kiss.

“So if I say yes, I get kisses too?” He wasn’t the only genius in the room and for once it was in a situation where he didn’t feel he’d need to defend his reputation. Kiss. “Are you hoping this’ll become a…an experiment in positive reinforcement?”

There wasn’t a yes in that line but Steve was getting the full treatment for that deduction. Forget ‘one day.’ He loves Steve now, today. Between kisses showing his wholehearted approval he murmurs. “No, but keep talking science to me.”

“Uhh..science? Beakers. Experiments. Test tubes,” Steve sounds a little lost, distractedly chasing the kisses as he thinks. Maybe it was too hard of an assignment. “Bunsen burners? I don’t remember–”

Subcategory then. “Mechanics?” 

“Like cars?”

“Sure. Name parts of them,” he suggests helpfully before he gets a list of makers.

“Engine. Carburetor. Brake lines. Exhaust pipe. Fuel tank.”

It’s not perfect but Tony feels like he falls more and more in love with Steve with every term. 

“Thanks,” he says, ending the listing, meaning it for more than the words. It’s a thank-you for going along with him even when Steve doesn’t quite get it, for being the brave one and asking questions that opened him to the risk of rejection that Tony had only ever asked in his dreams.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, all beautiful sincerity and understanding. “And thank-you.”

“For what?” Tony’s brow furrows. He hasn’t been doing anything he deserved thanks for.

“For teaching me to dance,” Steve says simply. “And for my first kiss since the ‘40s.”

 _Well then._ “My pleasure. Really,” Tony says truthfully. Steve’s eyes sparkle. Something’s up. Tony’s suspicions are confirmed a moment later.

“I can tell,” Steve smirks and rolls his hips slightly

Tony colours. Wow. When had that happened? Also, where had Captain America acquired that skill? On the other hand, he was now knew for certain Steve was more than a handful. 

“Seems like the pleasure’s mutual,” he quips, synapses finally firing at an acceptable rate again.

“That’s right, genius,” Steve confirms fondly. Their foreheads meet with none of the awkwardness, but all the sappiness of a new couple.

“So, I’ve been rethinking your aversion to the assignment,” Tony finally says, spellbound by Steve’s blues. “Think Fury will let us skip out?”

“After you spent all this time completing the skill set I need to handle the hordes?” Steve looks appalled and for a moment, Tony actually thinks he might be serious. “Maybe if we spend excessive time making it clear to him that even if we go, we’re not going to be that charming to the other attendees. Like this.”

Steve starts walking away, before turning and fluttering his eyelashes and mouthing ‘Tony’, swooning exaggeratedly, clutching at his heart and blowing it from cupped hands. He drops the act and his eyebrows lift for a meaningful moment.

Catching on, Tony stops cackling and smiles like a shark. “I support this plan, master tactician.” 

Steve grins and offers his hand. “Let the dance begin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, so if you've got feedback or find mistakes, let me know! 
> 
> I started ballroom dancing recently and then this came out. Did you know that in Japan, the Foxtrot is called the Blues? At least, my instructor calls it the Blues so I'm really curious what the actual Blues will be called...


End file.
